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The Quiet Bar

Posted on May 2, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

There were all kinds of sounds in the tiny, dark space. Giggles, laughter, voices (male and female) over the clinking of glasses, the crunching of peanuts and fries, a foot stepping on uncleared broken glass, sighs and possibly even a moan or two; it was a sound designer’s dream (or nightmare). And then, suddenly, a quiet bomb went off.

It went off at the main door but the shock waves rippled through the entire bar. Slowly at first and then the waves of silence picked up speed as more patrons became aware of the detonation at the entrance. The silence enveloped everything, seeping into the nooks and crannies, affecting even the tiny tables set in darkened alcoves where people did God-knows-what in the afforded privacy. Everybody fell silent, everything went quiet. Less than thirty ticks after it first went off, the bomb had destroyed all sound.

She had that effect on people.

Even when she wasn’t dressed in funereal black.

Which is completely different from cocktail black by the way. The latter is an invitation, the former a deterrent.

She stepped in on high heels, impossibly high ones. They were more stilts than stilettos. Her calves were taut heart-shaped muscles with nary a quiver in sight, even though she was thumping the floor with a certain amount of purpose as she cut a straight swathe towards the bar, “Gin and tonic please. Easy on the tonic, go crazy with the gin.” The bartender was a fellow named Joseph (he hated being called Joe; both the assault charges on his rap sheet were because someone had called him Joe) and he didn’t say much in the presence of a beautiful woman, he simply did as he was told.

She didn’t take off her hat nor turn up the lacy brim so strangers had to crane their necks rather than simply casting fake casual glances to see what she looked like. All they had seen were heels, calves, a swishing black skirt that hinted at saucy hips and a severe black jacket. There was the hat, but the hat didn’t say anything…much. Wearing it indoors was a sign of attention-seeking on par with people who wore their sunglasses indoors. She didn’t need to have bothered. She was the kind of woman who would get attention wearing sack cloth.

She swirled her gin and tonic and absently thought about the church and the service. Maurice had been a powerful man, a vigorous man; and that was saying something when her thirty-year-old lover couldn’t keep up with her. The man had forty years on Maurice and yet he was the one who needed a breather between sessions. It was her fault really. He was cruising for ‘unattainable’ while she was ‘desperately seeking insatiable.’ Maurice had kept her on a short leash but the trouble with a leash is that it’s not exactly surgery. The only way Maurice could have kept her to himself was if he’d had her surgically attached to himself, at the hip. The thought never occurred to him.

Not her fault.

And now he was dead.

For one brief moment she wished it had been toy boy in the coffin instead. Of course she knew that wishing never made it so. So she sipped her drink instead. The bartender took instruction well. It definitely put the ‘gin’ in ‘begin the festivities.’

Claudia took stock.

She had just inherited the multi-million dollar fortune of her recently deceased husband. At forty she had maybe another ten good years in her and maybe fifteen okay ones. She needed to figure out what she wanted out of life before her looks faded and life became as dull as it seemed to be for all the other people in the bar. She hazarded a glance at the sextet of office goers who seemed to huddle over their drinks, seeking warmth they did not already have in their lives. One hundred and seventeen (point five) million can make a woman feel very warm. She looked around at the rest of the bar. Conversations had resumed, a little laughter wasn’t completely out of the question but all minds (if not eyes) were still on her.

She tapped the bar once and immediately got Joseph’s attention, “A round for everyone. On me. No need to announce it. Just let them have what they want.”

Again, Joseph did as he was told.

See it wasn’t just that he did whatever a beautiful woman told him to do. In any other case he would have asked the beautiful woman if she could afford to pay for all those drinks. People were known to get greedy when they knew something was for free. In this case, it didn’t matter.

This was the new boss.

Everybody had gone quiet because they thought she had killed Maurice Chevalle. Which is in and of itself an impressive thing to do, seeing as he was the most feared gangster on the East Coast. That his own wife might have had the stones to pull something like that off…that brought another layer of respect with it.

Each and every one of them remembered to say ‘thank you’ on their way out. She accepted each piece of gratitude with a nod but without turning away from the bar.

She didn’t anticipate any trouble from this crowd.

The church had already given her its support.

Claudia Chevalle got to her feet and smoothed down the front of her skirt.

Time to ensure that the rest of the city would roll over just as easily.

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